


I’m Waking Up to Ash and Dust

by WitchStuff



Series: It’s the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine) [1]
Category: My Mad Fat Diary
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Angst, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 01:57:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9856823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchStuff/pseuds/WitchStuff
Summary: “She’d spent the majority of her life feeling huge and cumbersome. Always awkward, never graceful. And look at her now, she’s practically athletic. And all it took was the end of the world.”An extreme AU where things went horribly wrong after Finn went to Leeds. Apocalyptically wrong.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks and love to the bestest beta of all time - @madfatty, and my dear @how-ardently, for the constant encouragement. If I write at all, it’s because of you two.
> 
>    
> Story titles are from lyrics by R.E.M and Imagine Dragons.

Rae Earl is running.

Down the street and through a broken fence, into the yard of the former textile factory, zigging and zagging between the fallen beams and rubble. Behind her she can hear them shouting to each other, arguing, trying to figure out which way she’d turned.

She’s good at running. Also climbing, and leaping. She tightens her grip on the two backpacks on her back, and jumps over a fallen piece of wall. Two steps and she finds a sunken hole behind some bricks, a dark spot, hidden from view. She crouches down and waits, trying to control her breathing. Her cheek feels like it’s on fire. It’s already swelling up, and will probably turn purple soon. Fucker took a serious swing at her face while trying to snatch her bags.

Despite the pain in her cheek and the uncomfortable position behind the rubble, Rae is quiet and still. She’s good at stealth and is an excellent hider as well.

The irony is not lost on her. She’d spent the majority of her life feeling huge and cumbersome. Always awkward, never graceful. And look at her now, she’s practically athletic. And all it took was the end of the world.

“I’m telling you, I saw her turning this way.” She hears a gruff voice saying.

“Well, can ya see a bitch running around? Because I sure don’t.”

“She’s hiding, you fucker. We just have to look real good.”

Rae smiles. They’re both panting and wheezing. They’re not as good at running as she is. It’s already dusk and will be dark soon. There’s no way they’ll find her here in the dark. All she needs to do is wait, and they’ll give up soon enough. That’s the good thing about Pinheads - too impatient. No follow-through. They’re bitching and moaning but already starting to convince each other to pack it in. Why spend time looking for some bitch with a bag full of who-knows-what, they agree. Might as well go looking for the motherload, where she found the stuff. Gotta be somewhere close, right?

That’s not the best news, as far as Rae’s concerned. That hidden pantry had some more goodies in it, and she was hoping to go back for them tomorrow. There’s only so much she can carry at one time. But they’re leaving and soon she’ll find her way back home, much richer than she was this morning. Now, that’s worth getting a bit roughed up by some crazy fuckers trying to take her stuff.

That’s what Rae calls a good day.

 

+++

 

Amy greets her at the opening and takes one of the bags off her hands. “Took your time,” she says in her no-nonsense voice.

“Had a bit of running around to do first.”

Amy nods at Rae’s bruised cheek as they fall into step. “I see someone improved on your face.”

“Pinheads.”

“Yeah?”

“Dodged them. But I think we lost the motherload.”

“Fuck.”

“Got some Class-A shit though,” Rae says with mild excitement as she and Amy walk into the office; which is really just a large room with two large desks and chairs, and a false paneled wall, behind which they hide their loot.

“Give us a look.” Amy sets the bag on her desk and opens it. “Holy fuck.”

“Good, yeah?” Rae beams.

“Bloody hell, what’d you do, raid a Boots?”

“I wish. No, it were just a tiny back storage room that no one else had got to. Most of these are past expiration date, so we should be careful.”

Amy reads a crumpled packet of pills. “Cyklo-F for Heavy Period Relief - holy fuck. I don’t care if it’s twenty years past the sell-by.”

While Amy does her version of _oohing_ and _aahing_ over the various pills and medicines Rae hands to her, Rae arranges the rest of the items neatly in a cardboard box, to be taken behind the paneled wall in the back. She waves three packs of tampons at her mate, who snatches them right up and practically embraces them.

“My Preciousssss…” Rae whispers, and Amy shoves her.

“Fuck off.”

Through her fatigue and the pain pulsing in her skull, Rae still chuckles. The tampons go into the box, to be dispensed by Amy or her as required.

“Good job, boss.” The ginger girl adds. “What about the other one?” she picks up to the second backpack.

“That’s all pantry stuff. Go give it to the kitchen, see if they can fix us something decent tonight.”

Amy stops and looks at her seriously for a second. “Salt?” she asks, her hopeful tone verging on pathetic.

Rae’s chapped lips curl in a satisfied grin.

“You beauty! I could kiss ya!” Amy declares, but she gives Rae’s arm a punch instead. Strong one, too. Amy’s all muscle and bone. When she leaves, Rae sits behind her own desk, slouching in her chair with her legs stretched and crossed on the corner.

She only has a couple of minutes alone in the office before everyone hears she’s back and rushes in. She prepares herself for over-excited girls, grumbly old men, bickering teenagers, and various haunted-looking people hovering at the back. Touching her cheek gingerly, Rae tests the tender skin around the bruise. It feels like it’s on fire.

God, she’s tired. She would give her left tit to be able to catch a solid six hours of uninterrupted sleep right now. But she has to get out there and be the responsible adult. Sighing, she gets herself up. “And bloody miles to go before I sleep.” she says as she opens the door.

+++

When she goes back for the rest of the meds, the cupboard is empty.

“Fucking Pinheads fucking everything up for everyone…” she grumbles and kicks whatever she can find. The former shop had long been ransacked, and so had the entire street. The entire town. But Rae is a picker, she knows there’s always something left, somewhere. When you’re in charge of dozens of people, you can’t afford to be too choosy.

Still, a haul like the day before is so fucking rare, and if Rae was still a person who felt things fully, she would probably sit down on a pile of crates and tear up right about now.

She doesn’t. She goes through two more shops and a block of eight flats, all of which are pretty much cleaned out, before she decides to pack it in for the day. There’s still plenty of light, but her face hurts and she’s tired of hiding and dodging. She just wants to be inside, where it’s safe.

Amy greets her at the opening again.

“What, you got spies on me?” Rae grumbles.

“Got news.” Amy shoots back, and Rae is immediately on alert. “We got walk-ins.”

They exchange looks and pick up the pace.

“Rae, may I have a word with you?” A middle aged woman dressed in an old fashioned floral dress tries to halt the girls. Rae groans. There’s always something.

“Sure, Mrs. Husten. Why don’t I call for you when I’m caught up at the office?”

“This is rather important, dear. As you know, I share with the Bijarani’s and frankly -”

“Hey,” Amy cuts her off. “We’re in the middle of something, yeah? She said to wait for us to call ya.”

Mrs. Husten’s face pinches, “There’s no need for that tone! I was only asking - I have rights, you know -”

“No you don’t, Missus. In here, you got no rights. We take care of you, you do what we say. Or you can go back out there and find a nice Shepherd or a Pinhead to take care of ya. Got it?”

They leave her standing there, mouth agape and eyes watering. Amy looks back at Rae. “What?”

“Nothin’. Tell me about the walk-ins.”

“It’s a bloke and a girl.”

“A girl? What age?”

“About Ten.”

Rae’s breath hitches, she stops walking. “Jesus. Is he a fucking Shepherd?”

Amy’s face hardens. “Shit no, slag! You think I’d let a fuckin’ Shepherd in? He says he found her hiding in a house near Warwick, all alone and starving. Some Snappers were trying to get her. Says he took her with him to protect her.”

“That’s just what a Shepherd would say.”

Amy folds her arms across her chest in what Rae knows is a dangerous pose. “You saying I can’t tell a fucking perv from a decent walk-in?”

“Wasn’t saying that.”

“You saying I can’t take care of everyone when you’re out? You the only one who can take care of us, is that what you’re sayin’?”

Rae takes a big exaggerated breath and rolls her eyes: “Yeah, you crazy bitch, that’s what I’m saying. I’m the only one who can do stuff, so I deserve to be Queen of the Rubble Heap People.”

Amy’s eyes narrow suspiciously, but then she loosens her stance.

“Okay, soz. I’m wound a bit tight, yeah?”

“Haven’t noticed.” Rae tells her, as they carry on walking, through halls with peeling green paint on, down a flight of stairs. “How’s the hunt for some decent cock going, then?”

“Shit, it’s a fucking desert out here.” Amy cracks her neck.

“Hey, maybe this Shepherd will give ya some.”

“He’s not a Shepherd, you twat, I’ve told ya. And he looks like I could snap him in half with my pinky. Don’t think he’ll be up for me riding ‘im like a little pony.”

They had to start using the cellars for accommodation. It’s damper down there and cold, and it’s permanently dark and dreary, but the upper floors have gotten so crowded they’d had no choice but to start housing the stronger, healthier people down there.

Off to the side there are small rooms that had been used for storage and boilers and shit. Amy leads Rae into one of those. It’s dingy and empty, except for a mattress and some blankets at the far end by the wall. Amy gestures with her chin at the two figures lying on it.

“They have anything?”

“Nothing much, but he was willin’ to share. He’s not let us take a proper look in his bag, though. So he’s not sharing everything.”

“Are they sleeping?” Rae’s amazed that they would sleep so soundly in a strange environment, full of people they don’t know.

“They were dead on their feet coming in. Said he’s been walking from up north for six months.”

“Did they eat?”

“The girl did. The bloke skipped.”

“No shit?”

“Said he can skip one, gave the food to her.” Amy gives her a meaningful look. “He seems genuine.”

They look at each other for a couple seconds more, then step in to the room and walk closer to the mattress.

The newcomers are sleeping by the wall, the girl on the inside, the man in front of her in a protective manner, almost hiding her behind his narrow back. His head is resting on his bag. His hair is long and shaggy, his shirt two sizes bigger than he needs.

“Jesus, he’s skin and bone. He can’t skip.” Rae says. “Go get some bread.”

“How much?”

“Couple of slices. Doubt he can manage more than that anyway.”

Amy turns to leave, and as she disappears out the door, Rae remembers to ask, “What are their names?”

“Finn and Bella.”

Rae freezes for a split second. Names still give her chills, though she knows it’s not him. Finn, her Finn, has been dead for years now. The last time she saw him seems like a lifetime ago, like it happened to someone else, some girl she read about in a book. Some stupid cow, all wrapped up in her own insecurities, willing to give up so much. Well, that girl didn’t know then that everything would be over so soon.

“Hey.” She says.

They’re not stirring. They’re probably so tired they could sleep for days. A part of her hates to wake them but she has to find out what the deal is. If he is a Shepherd, she has to know right now, before she lets him in to their community.

“Oi.” She repeats. “Wake up.” And this time she gives his shin a little nudge with the toe of her boot.

Before she can blink there’s a gun pointed at her face. It only takes a second for the man to be awake, and standing in front of her, staring. Rae doesn’t even flinch.

His breath is ragged and his eyes are crazy, but there’s no doubt.  

“Well,” she says after a full 30 seconds of tense stand-off, “I guess we know what you were hiding in your bag.”

He says nothing, just looks at her, his blank stare boring into her eyes. But Rae can’t stop her own eyes from wandering, looking at him, this stranger, this oddity, this impossible thing, and taking in every detail. “You look like shit, mate.” she says.

That’s not what she wants to tell him. She wants to say, _you look so thin. So used. So old and hard and terrible. You look like my friend, the boy I loved once, if he were old and ground down to nothing but dust._

He says nothing, and his gun is still cocked and pointing at her. She notes how his hand is steady, even if the rest of him looks like a strong gust of wind might scatter him away. “You know, you never used to say much, but this is ridiculous,” and she rolls her eyes.

His stare changes, focuses. His eyebrows contract. His eyebrows are still the same.

“Rae?” he says, and his voice breaks in the middle, the one syllable split in two.

And it sinks in. It’s him. It’s really him. It’s _really him_. Not dead. Alive. Finn Nelson is alive.

He lowers his gun, clicks the safety back on, puts it gently on the ground. Next second, her arms are full of Finn. He practically slams into her body, wraps himself around her. His head in the crook of her neck, his breath hot and humid next to her skin. He holds her, holds on to her hard, harder.

Rae, who is a runner, a hider, a fighter, a leader, head of a community, provider, feeder, mother, but who has not felt any emotion all the way through for years, is shattered by a wave of feeling, so strong she can barely stand it. She holds on to Finn to keep him steady as his body puts all his pain and loneliness on her, and her head bows down, a silent memorial to the kids they once were, back when the world was still there.

“Thank god,” Finn is whispering. “Oh, thank god. Thank god. Thank god.”

 

TBC


End file.
